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Sawyer is enjoying another beautiful evening on nightmare island with a book in hand and the soothing sounds of crashing waves by the ocean shore. As tends to be the case more often than not, his peace is interrupted. Watership Down will have to wait. Distant noises of crunching leaves and sticks come from up the pathway to the caves, and before he knows it, the sand beside him is being stepped on by their fearless leader himself.
“Doc.” Sawyer greets, though his attention is more so torn away Jack and toward the now obvious favor being asked of him – Charlie, spinning around and kicking at the sand to make various patterns, his arms outstretched as he goes. Sawyer’s lips tug up into a sarcastic smile. “Well now, it must be my birthday.” He drawls out dryly, tilting his head back at Jack, who only sighs and gets that serious look on his face that doesn’t do anything to intimidate Sawyer.
“Boone and Locke just got back,” He relays, squinting his eyes slightly against the golden light of the early stages of sunset. “Boone’s shoulder is a little cut up, Sun is with him now. It’s nothing major but-”
“Get to the point.” Sawyer interrupts, tempted to go back to his book just to be an asshole about it. He isn’t a free babysitter.
“I’m gonna need to patch him up a bit.” Jack explains slowly, like Sawyer doesn’t already get the picture. “If Charlie stays in the caves, he’s going to get,” Jack tilts his head back and forth as he looks for a friendly way to describe it.
A familiar shit eating grin grows on Sawyer’s face. “Clingy as hell?” He provides.
Jack sighs. It isn’t Sawyer’s fault that the doc doesn’t appreciate his suggestions. “Look, he just needs someone to watch him for a little bit while I sort this out, okay? I’d rather leave him with a caregiver than not.”
Sawyer snorts. “How very kind of you.” Ever the doctor.
“Is that a yes?” Jack asks, straightforward with that barely concealed anger. Exactly how Sawyer likes him, just on the edge while trying to keep up that moral high ground. Jack isn’t any better than the rest of them. It’s something that Sawyer likes to remind him.
“Well, it comes with a high price.” Sawyer smirks. He isn’t a free babysitter.
Jack rolls his eyes, turning away from Sawyer. “Okay, sure. Charlie, come here bud.” He calls out, reaching out his hand to signal the little over. Charlie’s head pops up to look at them, grin on his face, even as he sways on his feet with dizziness. Moving too fast, too distracted, like he had forgotten that Jack and Sawyer were even there in the first place. “I’m going to head back to check on Boone, are you going to be alright here with Sawyer, like we talked about?”
Charlie nods his head happily enough, barely casting a second glance at Sawyer, and not noticing it when Jack leaves them. He simply bends down to pick up a shiny shell, and then he seems to be on a mission to collect as many as he can find, completely unfazed. Clingy isn’t the right word for him, obviously – though Sawyer would much prefer this reaction to screaming and crying like he’s being dropped off for his first day of school, whether Sawyer was looking after him or just happened to be in the area. Certainly saves him a headache. Sawyer is never going to complain about a lack of separation anxiety, in fact he finds it hilarious that Charlie is so easily distracted from Jack’s departure.
“Too much of a handful for old Jackie boy, huh?” Sawyer teases when Charlie runs back towards him from the shoreline, his arms full of new rocks and shells.
Charlie just shrugs his shoulders, obviously unbothered as he plonks himself down on to his knees in the sand. He picks up one of the new rocks to inspect, the others ungracefully falling to the rest of the pile. “Nah, he’s just doing boring stuff now.” Even though Sawyer knows for a fact that Charlie would be in the way of everything and asking a million questions trying to help, if he had been with Jack right now. “I like it at the beach.” He says, beginning to separate the rocks from the shells.
Well, if Charlie’s going to stay this easy to keep an eye on, then Sawyer may as well not even be here. He isn’t careless enough to ditch the kid, but he’s certainly smart enough to know when to lay back and enjoy his book. Charlie comes and goes – only down to the water and back. He never strays from Sawyer’s line of sight, even though he hasn’t been told to do so. There’s a nice orange and pink sunset on the horizon by the time that Charlie properly sits back down close to Sawyer, arranging various shells and rocks and sticks that he’s been collecting into some sort of castle or maze or maybe something else entirely. In Sawyer’s defense, it doesn’t look like the kid is ever fully committed to what he’s making anyway, little adhd freak that he is. He hums various tunes and squirms around as he plays.
When the squirming to get comfortable doesn’t settle down after a couple of minutes, Sawyer tries not to sigh too loudly. “What, you got ants in your pants or something, kid?” Sawyer asks, holding his book down on his lap. He’s probably going to have to reread the whole page, given that his attention keeps shifting to Charlie and his fidgeting.
Charlie glances up, his squirming coming to an abrupt holt. “What?” He squeaks out, and Sawyer almost laughs at just how terrible he is at pretending not to understand. Not much of a liar, is he? Even big, he’s more of a heart on his sleeve kind of guy than Sawyer will ever be in life.
Now, he could handle this Jack’s way – turn up the cooing voice and give Charlie a gentle reminder about going to the potty, or whatever.
But he’s never going to handle things like Jack, is he? He isn’t Oceanic 815’s savior. He isn’t their doctor.
So, Sawyer rolls his shoulders and makes himself comfortable against the tree he’s been leaning on, beginning to lift his book up again. “If you wet yourself like a baby, I’m not helping to clean it up.” He says calmly, resting a hand behind his head.
Charlie straightens up at that, tall as he can be while on his knees. His eyes so wide that they are bugging out of his head, shoulders at his ears as his cheeks begin to tint pink – nothing to do with the cool breeze beginning to drift in.
“I’m not a baby!” He hisses, whisper yelling in that adorable little British accent, eyes darting left and right to check that no one nearby had heard anything.
He’s cute, definitely. Sawyer will give him that.
Sawyer’s lips tug up into a well worn smug smirk, eyes still on the first paragraph of the page. “Well then there’s nothing to be worked up about, is there, squirt?” He asks, slowly turning his face toward the little, grinning as Charlie’s eyebrows furrow and his cheeks puff out as he pouts slightly, clearly unsure how best to defend himself. Sawyer throws him a bone, dipping his head and speaking each word slowly. “Do you need to go?”
Charlie’s hands clench into fists. His knees shuffle in the sand unsurely. “No!” He answers, offended, before he awkwardly crosses his arms over his chest, and very slowly sinks back down into the sand. It takes about two seconds of sitting down on the sand before he can no longer stay still.
“You’re sure?” Sawyer checks, even though he already knows for a fact how this is going to end.
“Uh huh!” Charlie nods with false confidence, fidgeting with one of the rocks in a totally nonchalant way. “I’m a big boy.” He assures – though it’s far more important to Charlie than it is for Sawyer.
“Alright.” Sawyer drawls, turning back to his book. Not his fault that the kid has something to prove.
It takes less than five minutes before Sawyer hears the kid’s little gasp. He dog ear’s the page of the book and sets it on the sand beside him.
Charlie’s lip quivers, hands hovering over his crotch as if that is ever going to help him. Sawyer expects tears, but as it is, his eyes are only misty, more panic than being upset – though he might actually believe that he can make it off of the beach without completely peeing his pants. Sawyer doesn’t think it’s worth correcting his hope. “Alright buddy, I know.” Sawyer starts, making his way to his feet and brushing off the sand from his pants. Charlie looks up at him fearfully, poor little thing.
“I- I just- I didn’t-” He stutters, shaking his head side to side, his big doe eyes glued to Sawyer’s.
Sawyer nods. “I know, I hear you kid. You think-” but he’s cut off before he can even finish his question, Charlie looking down at his lap and shaking his head as he presses his legs tighter together – even less helpful by now. There’s a little whimper, but for the most part the kid just seems embarrassed, not like he’s going to burst into tears on the beach so – at least Sawyer’s got that on his side. Jack is going to owe him big.
“Alright kiddo, come on, lets hop up.”
Charlie sniffles, before giving a jerky nod, glancing up at Sawyer and reaching an arm out for help up. Sawyer gently takes it, placing his hand on the little’s back and leading him slowly up the path to the caves – thankfully empty. Sawyer wouldn’t have a problem with telling anyone to look the other way or back off, but he’d rather not be in any situation that will have Charlie curling into himself any more than he already is. Especially as the – normally rambling away, bouncing off the walls type of kid – is silent on their entire walk.
By the time that they reach the showers that Micheal had set up, Charlie looks like he’s either deeply disappointed in himself, or he’s about to fall asleep. Sawyer takes either to mean that he needs to take charge immediately. Sawyer might not be the sweet nothings type of guy, but then again – when did sweet nothings ever help to get a kid cleaned up?
“Alright bud.” Sawyer lowers himself down, sinking a knee into the ground and resting his arm on the other. “Let’s get these off. You want to try those buttons yourself?”
Charlie shakes his head, unhelpfully raising his thumb towards his mouth and chewing on the thumbnail. Fine by him. Sawyer leans forward, undoing Charlie’s jeans quickly and pulling them and his underwear down to his knees in one go. No use in dragging anything out here. “Here, kick your shoes off for me.”
Charlie clumsily follows orders, pressing one foot against his heel until the first shoe falls off, repeating the process with slightly more effort on the second one. Both shoes flop to the ground, bouncing and rolling in different directions – but Sawyer couldn’t care less about that right now.
“Alright kid, keep your hands-” Sawyer takes Charlie’s arms and places his hands firmly on top of Sawyer’s shoulders. “-right here. I don’t do injuries.” Charlie nods his head, even though he’s loose limbed. If there was a breeze he would probably blow over – but maybe that’s more to do with that ‘rockstar’ lifestyle that he’s got pretty unsubtle withdrawals from. Sawyer tries to get Charlie’s wet jeans off as quick as he can, and throws them under their makeshift showerhead to wash them.
Footsteps quietly come closer to them, and Sawyer turns to scowl at whoever has come by, whoever has thought that it would be fucking helpful to come and make the kid upset, when the man places a dry set of clothes on a nearby rock. The scowl slowly drops, and he nods his head in thanks. “Appreciate it, Scott.”
“It’s Steve.” He replies, trailing off before shaking his head. “Just- yeah. Thought you might need it.” He says, looking sympathetically at Charlie, who has decided to stare at the ground. “I’ll leave you to it.” Steve nods, then walks off the way he came.
Sawyer returns his attention to Charlie. “Arms up.” He orders quietly.
Charlie glances up at him, eyes darting around with confusion. Sawyer rolls his eyes. “Well, we ain’t getting your shirt wet too, are we, munchkin?”
Charlie shakes his head, a very small smile on his face, then slowly raises his arms up. Sawyer helps get his shirt off, almost missing it when Charlie mumbles out to him.
“Do you think anyone else knows?” He asks shyly, that childish hope shining through once again. Looking to Sawyer to make it better. He’s definitely got the wrong guy for that.
It’s likely that everyone around the caves knows by now, but Sawyer will humour him. He’s a cute kid, after all.
“Nah, they got their own stuff to worry about. Think you can rinse off on your own?”
Charlie nods, a little hum of affirmation, before he steps forward, and Sawyer helps get him towards the water. He lets him go at his own pace, mostly keeping watch for anyone else who might be turning up unexpectedly – more for Charlie’s sake than anything else. No one would come around knowing that they were here. Even Jack, if only because he’s currently needed elsewhere.
He can hear Charlie drying off – one of their few communal towels coming in handy. Just another fun perk of the new island lifestyle – but he stays where he is until he gets a hesitant tap to his shoulder, unsurprised by Charlie’s shy approach for help. Kid clearly isn’t in the right space to dress himself with a full success rate.
They do the same hands on shoulders method to get some pants back on him – though the shirt is a little more complicated, despite Sawyer’s more than helpful guidance.
Very quietly, Charlie speaks up, tears gathering in his eyes while Sawyer fixes the hem of his shirt and unrolls Charlie’s long sleeves. “Why did you help me?” He just barely squeaks out, the beginnings of a meltdown clear as day, even in the darkness of early night. “You said, you know, that you wouldn’t.” He mumbles, wiping his nose on his sleeve in a desperate attempt to keep himself from crying. Sawyer feels for the kid, really. He sighs.
“Come on now, I wouldn’t leave a kid like that.” Gently, Sawyer brushes Charlie’s damp hair away from his face with his thumb. Big doe eyes stare back at him. “’Specially one as cute as you, huh?” He teases.
He means well, really, but it seems to only send Charlie further over the edge, as his eyes turn from watery to overfilling, and his face scrunches up as the first sob breaks past his lips. Sawyer tilts his head, grimacing sympathetically. “Oh, sweetheart.” He drawls, drawing the little close with a firm hand on the back of Charlie’s head. His shoulder’s shake violently, he sniffles and cries all gross and uncontrollable the way that kids do. Sawyer gently scratches at the base of Charlie’s neck, slow and predictable. “Alright, I know, I hear you.”
When it becomes apparent that this is simply the delayed response that Sawyer had been expecting back on the beach – though powered a little further by overtiredness, Sawyer would bet – he reaches to the back of Charlie’s thighs and scoops the kid up. Nothing else that he can do, and he’d rather be the asshole that stole medicine from the plane than the asshole that ditched a crying little.
“You’re alright.” He shushes, a slight sway to his movements. God, he’s glad that everyone around the caves would be avoiding coming their way. This is the last thing that he needs people to see him doing. Charlie rests his head firmly against the crook of Sawyer’s neck – overtired little kid that he is. Though the crying can only go on for so long, and Sawyer’s arms can only hold Charlie up like this for so long too. It’s a relief when the tired meltdown morphs into ‘too tired to have a meltdown’. Sawyer leaves Charlie’s wet clothes where they are – not his problem.
He carries Charlie into the caves, where everyone who is awake seems to – thankfully – be minding their own business – Boone seems fine, asleep at his usual bed, so nothing could have been that bad. Jack is left tidying up some of their makeshift medical supplies, but he turns with a growing smile when he hears Sawyer approach. For once, it doesn’t make Sawyer want to instantly punch the man’s stupid face.
“Is he doing alright?” Jack asks, closer to a whisper than soft spoken, and it prompts Sawyer to check on Charlie as best as he can. He hadn’t realised that the little had actually fallen asleep somewhere along their walk. He looks back up at Jack with a nod.
“No harm done.” Sawyer says, adjusting Charlie in his sore arms. “Something tells me Charlie boy isn’t the best at staying focused. Don’t think that’s new.”
Jack softly chuckles, head tilted as he keeps an eye on the little. “No. No, probably not. Thanks for looking after him while I-”
“Yeah.” Sawyer cuts him off, unconcerned with having a conversation with Jack right now. He carefully sets Charlie down on the blanket by Jack’s stuff, rubbing his shoulder when he stirs ever so slightly. Sawyer has more than done what was asked of him, and he has a book to finish reading back on the beach, or something. Never mind that the cold has settled in, and the sun has now set completely – night well and truly upon them.
He straightens up, casting a last look at Charlie, comfortably curled up on his side with his thumb in his mouth, and turns to start walking back down the path.
“Sawyer.” Jack calls out. Sawyer turns his head just enough to look back at the doctor.
Jack has that earnest expression again. “I mean it. Thankyou.”
Sawyer nods noncommittedly. He walks back to the beach.